The Skeleton Key
by reen212000
Summary: Dr. John Sheppard never thought of himself as special. After being kidnapped by The Trust, he returns to the city of his mother. Atlantis has been waiting for her Chosen to return for ten thousand years. An alternate history.
1. Cúlra

Hello, kids. So here it is my farewell to Stargate Atlantis. Not sure if it's forever or not, but my life has gotten pretty crazy. Sewing my life away for the upcoming Denver Comic Con, not to mention working behind the scenes at DCC. I'm hoping to get close to Karl Urban, at least to say HI! Hi! hi. and not go all fangirl on that scrumptiousness. Anyways… here ya go at looong last. The non-awaited, alternate history for John Sheppard.

oOoOoOo

Chapter One: 38 Years Ago: A Brief History (Cúlra)

_When I first met Patrick Sheppard, he was on the verge of divorce. He was sitting in a beautiful park, looking as though his entire world had been taken from him. He told me once that I was the saddest person he knew, but on that day, I had never seen such sorrow. With the pending divorce, his wife had told him he would never see his son. What a horrible thing for a father to hear! _

_I informed Patrick that he would find the strength and reclaim what was his. I know it was a bold move, but I couldn't see someone suffer like that. But when I saw those blue, blue eyes brightened, I knew I had struck a cord. I never thought I would see him again until a well-meaning friend took me to a party. _

_When I Descended, I never thought I would have friend, much less multiple friends. I never thought I would find love. Then it came in a package in the form of Patrick, and his beautiful little boy, David. While I know I won't be long on this earth, I have decided my time spent here will be the most important. Patrick has asked me to marry him. Of course I said yes. But will the others intervene? _

_**From the journals of Kaylin Sheppard, neé Caoilfhionn, O'Braion Clan. Contributed by Dr. John K. Sheppard; translated by Dr. Daniel Jackson**_

Against his father's wishes, Patrick Sheppard left the family business. The Sheppards started from nothing, and built the most reliable rail shipping network in the states. On a trip across the country, Patrick saw a need. There were people who still lived without proper electricity and he would bring it to them.

Diana Kincaid was a force to be reckoned with; it was one of the reasons he liked her. Smart, very beautiful, and very rich. Without her, Patrick would have never gotten as far as he had in business. There was no doubt Diana had a head for business. In fact, she made a better business partner than a wife.

The Kincaid name went a little further than the Sheppard name in society circles. More doors opened for Patrick and his crazy ideas of powering the outside world. Diana had no use for children. Her main objective was money. Get it, keep it, get more. Their marriage was a business transaction; if Patrick were honest with himself, he'd admit it was a good arrangement. Diana Kincaid was strictly business, born and bred for success. And in two years, they created Sheppard Utilities and Power.

When their company was stable enough for expansion, Patrick negotiated for a family. Much to Diana's disappointment, many of her friends and family agreed it was a good idea, though she still believed a child would be a hindrance.

Patrick's life came to mean something after their son, David, was born. But Diana wanted nothing to do with the child. Little David spent more time in Patrick's office than the nursery, and Patrick wouldn't have it any other way. He raised his son as best he could with a little help from his own mother, and every woman that worked at the office.

Patrick Sheppard had always tried to protect his family; he knew being a father meant protector. He didn't realize he'd have to protect the boy from his own mother.

When he was two, David visited his mother's office. With a bright smile, he walked to her desk with a small box in his hands. "Happy 'versary."

Diana calmly set a gin-filled crystal tumbler on the desk. Opening the box, she fondled the diamond earrings inside. The boy dimpled, raising his arms to be picked up. With a sigh, she obliged him, and marched out of her office.

As soon as they got to Patrick's office, David squirmed out of her arms. "Did it!" he announced.

"Good job, sport," his father said, smiling at Diana.

"To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Thank you for the earrings. They're beautiful." She frowned as she clasped her hands loosely in front of her. "Let's have lunch today. We'll talk."

When Patrick arrived at the restaurant, he saw another man sitting with his wife. Dread curled around his heart; he knew the man was a lawyer.

After two hours of civilized negotiation, Patrick Sheppard found himself homeless. Worse, he would be without his son. Walking around Central Park, he finally sat on a bench. Seemingly hours later, he found his way out of his fugue.

"Have you come back?"

Starting, Patrick turned to the voice. "I guess. Bad day."

The woman next to him smiled sadly. "I know what you mean. Can I help?"

Patrick found himself unable to resist speaking to her. He told her his life story, about his business, about David.

The woman pinned him in place with a furious glare. "You will go back to your wife, and you will demand custody of your son. It doesn't matter the price."

"But she wants most of my business –"

"It doesn't matter. None of it matters. Children are too important to lose over pettiness." She rose, holding out her hand. "You will get your son back." Her green eyes intensified as he took her hand, and the air seemed to stir.

Rising, he looked into her eyes and knew David would be back with him, without a doubt. Nodding, he walked away with renewed purpose. Looking back over his shoulder, he found no one. The woman had disappeared.

oOoOoOo

Nearly a year later, Patrick Sheppard was thirty-four, divorced, and bored.

It was the party of the century: His mother and father's fiftieth anniversary. He hated these kinds of parties; the brown-nosing, ass-kissing, hand out with a fake smile, kind of parties he had attended all his life. Navigating the crowd with a civil, polite smile, Patrick sipped his champagne.

In the center of the ballroom, his parents swayed across the dance floor. The guest list was tip-top; only those who truly mattered were able to attend the anniversary party of the year. If you were invited, you were obligated to attend. Or get blacklisted forever.

Veronica, Lorraine, Jeanette, Margaret, Fiona… They were all present. Stifling a yawn, Patrick made his way to the bar.

"Hey, Mister S," greeted the bartender. "The usual?"

Patrick smiled happily; at least his ex-wife had good sense to hire the kid. Tommy lived down the street, and could make a mean martini despite his only being seventeen. "Yeah, Tommy. The usual."

"At least she kept the bar, right?"

This time Patrick did laugh. He loved this bar; it had been a source of contention between them. He absently smoothed a hand along the dark wood. There was nothing worse than attending a party in your former home. "That she did. Hopefully, I'll get it back soon." Shaking himself out of his misery, Patrick grabbed the martini glass. "How's school?"

Tommy shrugged. "All right, I guess. My dad's pushing for Yale again."

"Where do you want to go?"

"Stanford," the kid said with a smile.

Taking a sip, Patrick returned his smile. Perfectly chilled as always. "Good luck with that. I've known your dad a long time. When he gets his mind set on something…" He shook his head in sympathy. "Scholarship?"

The teenager snorted. "Nah. I think that's why he wants me at Yale. Don't have to have good grades if your daddy–"

"Tom," Patrick chided quietly. "Believe me, I know how you feel. Went to Harvard when I wanted to go to Columbia. Still regret it."

Nodding sagely, Tom reached for the shaker. "I get it Mister S. Need any help at the office?"

"Actually, I do. Got a new Xerox machine. Supposed to change the way we do business, or something like that."

"Isn't that the way it always is? One day, someone is gonna make a super computer the size of a powder room instead of the ballroom." Wistfully, Tommy cleaned a glass. "Can you imagine if they get even smaller? What if you could have one in every room of your house? What if they could connect –"

"Thomas," a stern voice warned. "What have I told you about fraternizing?"

"Yes, ma'am. Sorry, ma'am. Anything else, Mister Sheppard?"

Patrick never wanted to see that gleam die again. The kid was bright, and would go places with that kind of thinking. Sighing, he turned to the voice belonging to his ex-wife. "It's fine, Diana. We're just talking shop."

"Well, do it on your own time. Thomas you've got drinks to pour." Diana walked away with a frown; he always said her face would stay that way if she kept doing that.

"Don't worry about her, Tommy. Keep thinking like that, okay? Smaller computers, and one in every room." Grabbing his second drink, he fled from the bar, leaving a dreamy bartender. _I love it when people start thinking,_ he mused.

"Patrick Sheppard, as I live and breathe," a voice called out to him.

"Hello, Parker," he drawled with a smile he reserved only for her. Suddenly, this party just got interesting. The fiery redhead turned her own high voltage smile up a notch as he came near.

"It's been a long time," she said. With the tilt of her head, she summoned one of the waitstaff, who supplied her with a fresh drink.

"Has it? Seems to me you were the one who left for six months." With a rakish smile, he directed her to a table. "Who was it this time? Mario? Gregorio?"

Parker Finley's laughter warmed his heart. "It was Paolo. And the South of France was lovely." Her smile dimmed slightly. "Incoming."

Patrick frowned; he didn't have to turn around to know his ex had re-entered the room. Sudden drop in temperature notwithstanding, he thought savagely. Finishing his drink in one swallow, Patrick leaned over and gave Parker a quick kiss. "See ya around, lover."

"Don't be a stranger." Moving through the crowd with purpose, Patrick made for his favorite terrace.

oOoOoOo

The eastern terrace wasn't the best place in February. But any place was worth being away from Diana. Loosing his tie, Patrick took a deep cleansing breath, scrubbed his hands over his face. Tonight wasn't the time to pick up old arguments; he just wasn't up to it.

"It can't possibly be that bad," a quiet voice commented.

Patrick started, spinning around to a shadowy corner of the terrace. "Who's there?"

A woman wandered out of the shadows holding two martinis. Smiling coyly, she handed him one glass. "It's just me. I saw you earlier, and you looked like you could use another."

Chuckling, Patrick took a sip. "Well, Just Me, you're an angel." Observing the new stranger over the rim of his glass, he saw a tall but thin woman with dreamy green eyes. Patrick nearly laughed at the amount of hairspray keeping a tight reign on her short hair. The green taffeta dress she wore enhanced her pale skin. "Don't I know you?"

She turned her thoughtful gaze on him, rendering him speechless. Those eyes were old; this woman was wizened beyond her years. "Not officially. I heard you have full custody of your son."

Patrick looked away, afraid he had seen too much. Taking a deep breath, he turned back, thrusting out his hand. "Patrick Sheppard."

Smiling, she grasped his hand awkwardly, her long, thin fingers wrapping around his large hand. "Caoilfhionn O'Braion." Clearing her throat, she amended, "Kay Breen."

Letting his brow arch, Patrick chuckled. He knew a little about Gaelic names. "Well my sorrowful and fair one, shall we return to the party?"

oOoOoOo

TBC


	2. Sìnteag

Sìnteag

Almost two years later, Patrick Sheppard found himself at the altar again. He paced the balcony of the church waiting for his cue.

"Dad? Are you nervous?" David asked, fidgeting with his tie again.

"A little, kiddo," Patrick smiled.

The day he met Kay changed his life. He got David back, at the price of one-third of Sheppard Utilities. She had been right, of course. Nothing else mattered.

Their courtship had been swift; he had never met someone who fit so completely into his life. Like he had been missing something until she held out her hand. Everything fell into place. Kay was reluctant to let Patrick woo her, in fact it took her some time to respond to him his advances; it took the better part of a month just to get her to agree to dinner.

The object of his affection seemed surprised every time he brought her flowers, took her on long horseback rides, or just made her laugh. Patrick would do anything to rid the sorrow from her eyes. It was as if she felt she didn't deserve happiness.

But Kay loved David. Her whole manner would change when he entered the room. They spoke for hours; Patrick thought his four-year-old son had logged more hours with his potential girlfriend than he himself.

Looking down at David, Patrick knew he'd made the right choice. "I have a surprise for you," he said, resisting the urge to muss the boy's hair.

"What?"

"After the wedding, Russell's taking you to the ranch. Your Uncle Jack will be waiting for you."

David laughed. "You got her, didn't you?"

Rounding his eyes innocently, Patrick grinned. "I guess you'll have to find out later." He never thought there would be a day he would own horses. The bay he bought for his son was beautiful and mild-tempered.

The music started, and David froze. Frantically, he patted his pocket. With a sigh of relief, he held the small box in his hand. "I'm ready, Dad."

"Me too, son. Me too."

In the blink of an eye, Patrick Sheppard completed his family. He could recall only two moments in his life that made him happier: The day David came into his life, and the first day he brought power to a small town in middle America.

"Do you think it would be okay if I call Kay Mom?"

"She would absolutely love that."

_oOoOoOo_

_Almost exactly three years later, my John Kieran came into this world, so quiet, so solemn. I took the liberty of naming the child, though Patrick didn't seem to mind. Eion Ciaràn Sheppard, Clan O'Braion is his formal name. Not the most prestigious, but I have a feeling he will find his way._

_He is so amazing! As a Descended One, there should have been no way for us to conceive a child. At least, that is what They had said. But on that fateful day, Gallia and Cillian – of all people – appeared in my room. I was so very afraid they came to take my child that I nearly missed Cillian's cheerful smile. The Dagda finally laughed! He even bestowed a blessing of knowledge and prosperity as he held our son._

_And dear Gallia. My sister in spirit, and in arms. We fought alongside one another for decades, and perhaps longer; our parents were the oldest of friends. After her Ascension, she became cold and aloof, the exact opposite of her acquired name, Sirona. No matter how much we fought, to see her smiling, to feel her arms around me on this occasion filled me with insurmountable joy. At least until she and Patrick met._

_**Excerpts from the journals of Kaylin Sheppard, neé Caoilfhionn, O'Braion Clan. Contributed by Dr. John K. Sheppard; translated by Dr. Daniel Jackson**_

oOoOoOo

A week later, Patrick paced the waiting room, occasionally glancing down the hall. His wife was having a baby, and he wasn't at her side.

"Dad? I think she'll be all right."

"I know she will, Davey. But I want to be with her." He finally sat down, motioning his son over. Pulling the six-year-old onto his lap, Patrick squeezed his son tightly. "So do you want a brother or a sister?"

"A brother. I think. Girls are always asking questions."

"Just wait 'til you're older, kiddo."

oOoOoOo

"You can see your wife briefly, Mister Sheppard. After that we'll have to talk."

Patrick didn't like the doctor's tone, but the need to see Kay invoked a more powerful emotion. When he entered, two figures flanked her bed. They stared in wonder at the child in Kay's arms, speaking in hushed tones. Patrick was sure they weren't speaking English, as he approached his wife.

"Hello?" he said quietly. The figures glanced up, surprised by his presence. "Who are you?"

Kay smiled happily. "Patrick, this is my… sister Gallia, and brother Cillian."

Gallia inclined her head in greeting. "We are honored to meet you, Patrick."

"Kay's never mentioned other family." He looked at his wife, searching for signs of distress. For the first time in months, she looked genuinely happy.

"We lost touch over the years. But we are quite happy to find Kay again." Cillian's smile was somewhat cold, but his blue eyes were amused.

"Well, I'm glad to meet you. This is my son David."

"Hello," David said quietly. Sidling up to the bed, he peeked at the sleeping baby. "Brother or sister?"

Kay grinned. "I wish for you to meet your brother John Kieran Sheppard."

"Wow! A brother! We can play trains!"

In spite of himself, Patrick laughed. "Well, when he's a little older."

"I hope you don't mind my presumptuousness, darling. The name just came to me."

Patrick kissed the top of John's head, then his wife's head. "I like the name; it sounds regal."

"We will let you rest," Gallia said. "Until soon, my sister."

Watching them leave, Patrick knew they were related to his wife. She had a way of floating instead of walking. As they left, he saw the doctor pacing the corridor. "Honey, I'm gonna talk to the doctor for a minute." Thrusting out her hand, Kay squeezed his arm. "Don't worry. I'll be back."

The doctor gestured towards his office. "Please, have a seat. I'm sorry to pull you away. Your wife had a difficult time at the beginning, but she seems fine now."

"Yes, she's been a little upset lately." Rubbing sweaty palms on his pants, Patrick leaned forward. "What about the baby?"

Frowning, Doctor Halloran laced his fingers on the cluttered desk. "When… John?" He waited for Patrick's nod, then continued. "When John was born, we didn't hear a peep out of him. We feared he would have some brain damage, due to lack of oxygen."

"What?"

Raising a hand, Halloran tried to calm the other man. "I'm not too worried about it now; he seems just fine. I will need to see him again in about a week. For now, I'd like to keep them both overnight for observation."

It was Patrick's turn to frown. "I dunno, Doc. Kay really doesn't like hospitals –"

"Patrick!" Kay's distressed voice cut through the hospital.

Running out of the doctor's office, Patrick raced towards his family. Skidding to a halt, he found his wife clutching the baby against her chest with one hand, and pushing David behind her.

"What's going on here?"

Two frowning nurses faced him. "It is time to take the baby to the nursery," one of them said.

Sighing, Patrick rubbed his temple. "Look, it's been a long day. The baby can stay here for now."

"No. We are leaving now." Kay shoved the baby into his arms, and grabbed her suitcase. "I will get dressed, and we will leave."

"Honey—"

"I'll not argue with you Patrick Milton Sheppard. And I will not have any part of my family taken from me."

He pretended not to feel the heat of her words. The nurses, on the other hand, swiftly left the room.

Kay dressed in record time, ignoring her exhaustion. Cillian had warned this would happen; a child born to an Alterran would be an anomaly. Nevertheless, he was very happy to see John. The child meant hope for her people, and no one would take him away. Exiting the bathroom, she found her men waiting quietly for her.

"Russell's waiting around back. The nurses are trying to find Halloran, so we need–"

Kay couldn't resist kissing him. "I know we haven't time for this. But... thank you."

The Sheppards left the hospital swiftly. Glancing down at the child in his arms, Patrick saw John was awake, gazing back. The dark grey eyes had an intensity that he thought only Kay possessed. _Babies shouldn't be able to see your soul,_ he thought.

As promised, Russell waited with open doors. The family climbed inside; the driver smiled at the intrigues of the wealthy. When they were halfway home, Russell glanced in his rearview mirror. All four Sheppards were huddled in the back seat, asleep.

oOoOo

TBC

Thus ends the beginning of an epic life! There will be more journal excerpts detailing John's childhood, but now, it's time to get this party started! Stay tuned... or not. LOL


	3. A Fuadaíodh

Chapter Three: A Fuadaíodh (Abducted)

oOoOoOo

_John has officially scared the living daylights out of his father. That cursed horse only listens to a five-year-old! Even Cillian was impressed._

_**From the journals of Kaylin Sheppard, neé Caoilfhionn, O'Braion Clan. Contributed by Dr. John K. Sheppard; translated by Dr. Daniel Jackson**_

Patrick looked fondly at a photo of John and a monstrous horse he had named Marker. To this day, he couldn't figure out why his son was the only person who could ride the stallion. David could only get close enough to help John mount and dismount, and some grooming.

The next picture was taken a year before Kay died, a candid moment caught on a summer day at the ranch. Matching aloof expression on mother and son, and a fifteen-year-old David grinning for all he was worth. Patrick was thankful Kay's "siblings" had prepared all of them for the inevitable, yet the thought of her passing still caused heartache.

Kay Sheppard ran a tight ship when she was alive. She had the uncanny ability to be several places at once and know exactly what her boys needed.

Sitting at his desk, Patrick toyed with an old picture of his family. In the picture, Kay hugged both boys, each sharing a laugh while he snapped the shot. She had never let David feel like he wasn't her flesh and blood; Kay had entered the Sheppards' lives seamlessly when he was four and never looked back.

"If you could see your boys now, Wanderer."

A chime roused Patrick from his musings. "Yes, Laura?"

_"It's time for your meeting, Mister Sheppard." _

"On my way."

Entering the large conference room, he glanced toward the end of the long table. The Sheppard boys were leaning over a notebook, sharing a laugh. John often doodled in the margins of his notes, on his desk blotter, on whiteboards... If John had a pen, any surface was in danger.

"Mornin' Dad," David waved.

"Hey, Dad," John smiled. "We've got a lot to cover today."

"Well, boys, let's get started."

oOoOoOo

_Yesterday, the most ridiculous thing happened! A man dressed as a clown tried to take my John Kieran away! At first, I thought it was The Enlightened Ones; I'm sure they will come one day. _

_But no, it was some idiot who was trying to curry favor with Patrick's ex-wife. This (untranslatable) person, a former employee of Kincaid Electric, didn't realize that there were two sons. My little man was very brave! But something strange happened. I heard him call out to me in my mind. No one in my entire clan could interact telepathically. _

_I wonder about what he and Cillian talk about in the garden; I've never seen Cillian smile so much._

_**From the journals of Kaylin Sheppard, neé Caoilfhionn, O'Braion Clan. Contributed by Dr. John K. Sheppard; translated by Dr. Daniel Jackson**_

Dismissing his employees, Patrick glanced around the large conference room, spotting his youngest son seated at the end of the table.

"John?" Sheppard frowned at the distracted man, noting his slightly pale complexion.

"Hey, dad."

"I'm not sure why you bother to write anything down. You remember everything."

The younger Sheppard smiled, amusement lighting his features. "I remember everything because," John responded, closing his notebook. "I write everything down."

Returning the smile, Patrick wondered what his life would be like if he had never met John's mother. "Come on, kiddo. Let's grab some lunch today. Your brother made reservations at Marlowe's."

Shaking his head, John rose and checked his email on his phone. "Thanks anyway. I've got a meeting with my guys in an hour; R and D have something "really cool" to show me, apparently."

Patrick could hear the quotation marks in his son's statement. "Kieran. You can't keep doing this." He stepped in front of the thinner man. "I'm worried about you."

"Dad, I'm fine; just tired." Putting his phone away, John linked arms with his father, walking out of the conference room together. A beep sounded from his jacket pocket. "I'm sure that's Doctor Medina assuring me it'll knock my socks off."

Groaning, Patrick tried to ignore his son's thin wrist. "It's not another plane is it?"

John chuckled, giving Patrick a squeeze. "Better. Well, okay, at least three of the five projects don't fly. This is a power conduit that can power a three-bedroom home for a year."

A low whistle sounded in the corridor. They both turned around, seeing the third Sheppard strolling across the marble. "Sounds like you're trying for a Nobel."

"Hey, Dave," John drawled, greeting his older brother. "I would, but that guy McKay keeps stealing my thunder." Another beep made John break away from his family. "The geeks are restless. I'll see you both later."

Before Patrick could respond, John was gone. Pinching the bridge of his nose, the senior Sheppard turned to David. "See if you can convince him to join us for a meal at some point today." The shrill sound of his own phone echoed in the lobby. "Or at least eat something besides crackers and coffee."

It was David's turn to sigh. "I'll do what I can, dad, but you know how he gets when his mind is on something."

"I know, I know." Glancing at his phone, Patrick frowned. "I need to take this. See you in an hour."

With a lopsided smile, David walked in the direction of his little brother's office. "An hour."

oOoOoOo

Signing off on two of the five projects on his desk, Patrick decided when and how to talk to his youngest son. He couldn't stand to see John burying himself in his work; the kid was always coming up with something new. Granted, his ideas made the company millions, but John had little time for extra curricular activities.

_One day, I'm gonna take away that pen of his,_ he thought.

Suddenly, a concussive sound rocked the building.

"What the –" Rounding the desk, Patrick exited his office into chaos. He snagged the nearest person. "What happened?"

The woman was dressed in a blue lab coat from John's department. "There – there was an explosion! And then there were men in black everywhere. I –"

"Dad! Are you all right?"

Patting the poor shocked woman on the shoulder, Sheppard sent her toward the exit. "I'm fine. We need to find John!"

Father and son fought the flow of escaping people as they descended the stairs. Opening the door on the sixth floor, Patrick had a very bad feeling growing in his gut. Shoving open the fire door, he saw papers drifting everywhere, sparks flying from every direction, and no sign of his son.

"John!" Both Sheppards called, searching frantically.

At the far end of the lab, they saw a man clad in black, waving at them. "Sorry, Mister Sheppard, but we need to borrow your son for a while."

In a bright flash of light, he was gone.

Patrick Sheppard let out a gasp, fumbling for his phone. With trembling fingers, he dialed the one number he never thought he'd use. "Get me General Hammond."

oOoOoOo

Colonel Jack O'Neill was never one to eavesdrop, but today seemed like a good day to start. The general had been volleying between the red phone and the black phone all afternoon, his facial expressions told Jack everything he needed to know.

Glancing down the corridor, the colonel spotted a sergeant carrying a tray. _Opportunity knocks,_ he thought.

"Hey, Walter. Lemme give you a hand."

Eyeing the colonel suspiciously, Walter allowed him to take the tray. "You do know General Hammond isn't going to let you stay in there, right?"

Snorting, Jack opened the door, balancing the tray with one hand. Setting the coffee pot down first, the colonel placed the tray on the desk. He refilled the existing mug, then poured one for himself. With a flourish, Jack removed the silver cover from a plate, exposing a snack for Hammond.

The general frowned, then grunted into the red phone as Jack sat down. Glancing at the hovering sergeant, Hammond shooed him away.

Turning back to Harriman, Jack mouthed 'told you so' with a smirk.

"Yes, Mister President, I – Yessir." Hanging up the phone, the general let out an exasperated sigh. He took a sip of hot coffee before looking at Jack. "I knew you'd find your way in here sooner or later."

"Anytime I can watch you play phone jockey, George..." Setting his mug aside, Jack crossed his legs, getting comfortable. "What's up?"

Letting out another sigh, Hammond leaned back in his chair. "Short story? Thirty-two years ago, a half-Alterran boy was born. Today, someone kidnapped him."

"Excuse me?" Warm brown eyes widened in shock. "You mean to tell me there's been a Skeleton Key wandering around and he hasn't been under our protection? That's –"

Hammond brought up a hand. "I realize how this looks, Jack. However, both his parents were very careful. They wanted him to have a pretty normal childhood."

"Normal? Who is this kid?"

"Patrick Sheppard's son, John, is missing."

Jack leaned forward in a huff. "As in Sheppard Industries? As in Patrick I've-just-invented-sunlight Sheppard?"

The general smiled, amused. "The very same. You know the regulating component on the naquada generators?"

"Yeah, McKay was all hot and bothered over it. Said they would last longer with it."

"It was created by John Sheppard." Hammond opened a file, showing the colonel a picture of the missing man.

"No wonder Rodney McKay was pissed," Jack commented. The Sheppards were a fine looking bunch; rich, successful, smart, and enough clearance to be dangerous. "Any leads?" he asked finally.

"Witnesses said that men in black fatigues suddenly appeared and blew up the place. The diversion was enough to scatter security and take Sheppard."

Rubbing his temple, Jack O'Neill wished he hadn't eavesdropped. "This just gets better and better. Trust?"

Frowning, Hammond rose. "It would seem so."

"So what's with the phone hopscotch?"

Uncharacteristically, the general shoved his hands into his pockets, trying not to look worried. He was quite unsuccessful. "Apparently Russia has been out of contact with the IOA and the Pentagon for the better part of a week."

"And they're just now getting around to telling us?"

Hammond glared at his colonel. "You know as well as I do the reason behind that." Shaking his head, he sat back down. "Something is going on, and we are out of the loop for now."

It was Jack's turn to pace. "What's next?"

"I think we need more intel. Assemble your team. I'll brief you tomorrow morning."

"That long, huh?" Jack went through the roster in his head. Sure enough, his team was scattered all over the galaxy. "All right. It's gonna take some time to gather them anyway."

"Something tells me," the general sighed. "This is just the beginning of a very long fight."

O'Neill gave a sloppy salute as he turned to leave. "And I really hate to see angry Ancients, sir."

OoOoOoO

_Keiran is so quiet these days; it's summer vacation, and he refuses to leave my side. He knows something is going on, and we've decided to tell him everything. _

_I find him with Marker more often than not, 'flying' he says. I swear, that horse acts more like 6ft tall dog than a horse, following my boy around the grounds. No bridle, no reins, no saddle. Sometimes, they're a bit creepy together. _

_Tonight, after dinner, Patrick and I have planned ice cream and a small dose of truth. My boys are too young to be thinking about such matters. _

_**From the journals of Kaylin Sheppard, neé Caoilfhionn, O'Braion Clan. Contributed by Dr. John K. Sheppard; translated by Dr. Daniel Jackson**_

He was flying.

He could tell by the gentle roll of the plane. Then the noise came, aggravating his headache further. Daring to open his eyes, John surveyed his surroundings. At least six men roamed the plane from his vantage point.

"He awake yet?"

"Yeah, I think he's coming around." A tap to his face jarred his aching head more than he cared to admit.

Groaning, John opened his eyes wider. "Well, hello, Sleeping Beauty. They didn't tell us you Ancient types were so frail."

Frail? Blinking away the last bit of grogginess, John straightened in his chair. "I'm not frail."

"Jess, I think he's pouting."

"I think you're right." Rising, Jess pulled out his sidearm. "Let's go, pretty boy. You need to freshen up."

Standing was the last thing on John's mind, but he had no choice. Slowly, he made his way to the restroom, grateful to arrive without incident.

The mirror told him all he needed to know about his health. He looked like crap. Briefly, he wondered if this was the John his father saw each morning. Now he understood why the old man tried to drag him out of the office all the time.

Closing his eyes, John concentrated. Ever since he was a child, John could tell where he was and the time without looking. In fact, much to his brother's dismay, John never wore a watch or needed a map. Right now, he knew he had been missing for at least three hours. Focusing, he tried to establish his location.

Nothing.

Grabbing the edge of the sink, John let the dizziness wash over him. He wasn't on a plane.

He wasn't even on Earth.

oOoOoOo

Colonel Jack O'Neill paced the 'gate room as the last chevron locked. The event horizon shimmered as a pale and worn figure stepped through, making his way down the embarkation ramp. "Welcome back," the colonel said, somewhat concerned.

"What's this all about, Jack?" The other man unclipped his tac vest after handing off his weapon to the nearest person. "I think we found a new clue about Atlantis, and –"

Patting his friend on the shoulder, Jack smiled. "Ease up, Danny-boy. We've got bigger problem than Atlantis right now."

Daniel Jackson huffed. "There's always some sort of trouble, Jack. I don't see why–"

"A Key went missing," the colonel said quietly.

"– I have to rush back… What!" Halting immediately, Daniel's eyes widened behind dirty lenses. "A Key? That means… He can't…"

"Breathe, Daniel. We're late for the briefing, so let's go before someone eats all the donuts."

"There's donuts?"

oOoOo

Halfway down the corridor, Major Sam Carter marched toward her tardy teammates. "Morning, sir. Daniel."

The colonel pulled his hands out of his pockets, keeping them loose at his sides. "Carter. Any word on Teal'c?"

"He and Master Bra'tac got caught in a bit of a skirmish. They should be in the solar system by tomorrow morning." Opening the conference room door, the major took her seat.

"Colonel O'Neill, Doctor Jackson. Thank you for joining us." Major Paul Davis opened his attaché, pulling out a laptop. "Yesterday at 1800 Zulu, John Sheppard was abducted from his office in Virginia."

Hitting a button, the monitor came alive with surveillance footage and photos. A silent explosion from the footage caught everyone's attention; taking over the entire screen. People in black fatigues appeared in flashes, scrambling across the research campus. Less than ten minutes later, the men were gone, leaving behind smoke and chaos.

"They have Asgard tech?" someone asked amidst the gasps.

Jack O'Neill was livid. "Who authorized that stunt? They better not be one of ours."

Frowning, Davis hit another key. Three faces popped up, all former military, all formerly SGC personnel. "These men have been spotted in the area within the past week, likely for recon. The speed in which this happened means they either had inside information, or –"

"No." Sam Carter crossed her arms. "This is way too sloppy for The Trust."

"What do you mean? They seemed pretty precise in their movements." General Hammond said softly.

"Major? If I may?" Carter commandeered the laptop, tapping keys to bring up more screens. "Those three men are definitely working with The Trust, but it's these two I'm worried about."

"That is Liam Grant," Daniel answered, leaning forward. "He's been looking for Atlantis for as long as we have."

"Right," Carter replied, pointing to the second man. "And Colonel Westfield just returned from McMurdo."

Major Davis cleared the screen, pulling up a new one. "The technology used is newer than anything we have." More keystrokes bring another screen. "A security guard got a lucky shot, hitting one man, and this weapon was left at the scene."

"Looks like one of those weapons from PX-336," Carter remarked.

"PX-what?"

"PX-336. I believe Jack referred to it as Planet Mall," Daniel supplied, filing away information. A pattern was forming, and it didn't look good.

"Ah! Planet Mall. You can literally buy anything there." Realization hit the colonel as caught his 2IC's attention.

"On it, sir." Carter opened her own laptop, fingers flying over the keyboard. The 'gate map highlighted many planets across the galaxy. "These are known planets where The Trust has stolen tech; none have the Asgard tech needed for the incident yesterday."

"Which is where we come in," Davis straightened, gesturing toward a silent man in the corner. "This Sergeant Vickers. He was our mole in The Trust until recently."

The man in question raised a bandaged hand. "Lucky shot guy right here. For all intents and purposes, I died in that ambush. And I'd like to keep it that way." Vickers moved forward to stand next Davis. With his good hand, Vickers hit several keys, the next screen showed blurry schematics.

"They built a ship?" General Hammond leaned forward, face pale.

Vickers frowned. "The Trust found a ship on Planet Mall, retrofitted with Asgard and Goa'uld tech. Worst of all, this ship may be either Ori or Ancient in origin." He hit another key, this screen showing another blurry image of a ship, in space. Blending with a debris field.

"How did this happen? How is it we don't know about a ship in space?" Jack stared back at the screen intensely, clenching his hands.

"Seems to me," Carter sighed. "We would've never known, sir."

"It's true," Vickers replied, crossing his arms. "If someone hadn't jumped the gun, kidnapped Sheppard two days sooner than originally planned."

"The sloppy work made a big noise and they had to cut their losses," O'Neill surmised.

Major Davis' phone rang the same time Carter's email pinged; while Davis stepped away, Carter opened her email. "Sir. We have a problem."

"Yes, we do," Davis chimed in.

"Well, spit it out, kids," Jack said, leaning forward, hands clenched on the table.

"I just received an email from one of the scientists sent as support."

"And how is Rodney?" the colonel smirked.

"Gone."

"What?" General Hammond stiffened.

"She's right, sir." Davis pocketed his phone, turning his attention to the room. "It's been confirmed; Rodney McKay was abducted an hour ago."

"The same way Doctor Sheppard was taken," Carter added.

With a sigh, Colonel O'Neill shook his head. "So what you're telling me is that The Trust now has the two people who could possibly find Atlantis?" Glancing around the room, he already knew the answer. "Perfect."

oOoOoOo

TBC

Oys. I guess I gotta type faster so I can get this out of the 5or 6 notebooks where this fic is located.


	4. Inntreadh

A/N: Holy tomatoes. Has it really been that long? Another Denver Comic Con in the bag. Yay! Meanwhile, RL has slapped me around like the bitch I am apparently. I hate this chapter. It has kept me up at night, and I can't seem to make it right. It'll get better. I think. Anyhow, here is the fourth installment of The Skeleton Key.

Chapter 4 Prelude

oOoOoOo

_Today, I found out that Keiran understands our native tongue. Apparently, Cillian has been educating my son behind my back. As high as he can reach, the walls of his room are covered in nursery rhymes written in a dead language. And of course, John has told me his marker no longer writes._

_**From the journals of Kaylin Sheppard, neé Caoilfhionn, O'Braion Clan. Contributed by Dr. John K. Sheppard; translated by Dr. Daniel Jackson**_

John Sheppard opened eyes he was sure he hadn't closed. Sitting up slowly, he took in the sparsely furnished, small quarters. A tiny window portside showed a blanket of stars. Standing, John peered out of the window, apprehension slowing his movements.

And it took his breath away.

Since he was a child, he had only dreamed of this moment. His mother had filled his head with wild tales of space travel, evil planets, and highly intelligent people who lived on a floating city.

Earth hung like a giant, mostly blue marble just as the pictures show. But the doctored photos don't show the amount of satellites orbiting the planet, various debris, or the space station.

_On a ship, huh? So that's how they can get away with this,_ John thought, stretching long limbs. Wandering away from the window, he glanced around the room. A slight tingling in the back of his mind reminded John of a gift his mother gave him when he was ten. Curious, John touched a wall. Immediately, a display lit up the blank wall. "Wow," he whispered, fascinated by the detail on the translucent screen. "How –"

The display changed, giving him a breakdown of electronic components and schematics.

"Thanks." A shiver ran up John's spine that felt like amusement. "Are you laughing at me?"

"Of course not, Chosen," a voice answered.

"Hmm. Are you reading my mind?"

"In a sense. Your ancestry allows mental interaction with this interface."

Intrigued, John returned to his bunk, gazing at the display. "My ancestry?"

The display winked then returned, spreading screens across the wall. He gasped at the picture of his mother. "You are of Alteran descent. Caoilfhionn, O'Braion clan, is your mother. She came from a place known to Terra as Atlantis."

"Yeah… Is this why I was taken? Because my mother was from this Atlantis place?"

"They desire to find Lantea."

"Why?" The grogginess had finally worn off; John shook away the remaining cobwebs fogging his brain. "My mother said it was destroyed thousands of years ago, so what's the point?"

"True. I am one of the remaining ships from the final migration."

"Really?" So many questions popped into his head at once, causing the display to change repeatedly. _How old was my mother? How old is this ship? Were they in stasis?_

"We have limited time, Chosen. It is possible your mother was approximately nine hundred years of age. It is also possible she was either Ascended or in stasis, however it is unclear. I have no access to those records." A hull classification symbol flashed on the screen, along with a date of record.

John whistled in awe. "Ten thousand years?" Reading the strange letters, John noticed the ship's name. "_Fidicinus_."

"Yes, Chosen?"

"My Latin is kinda rusty. Means lute, right?" John smiled wistfully at the lighted display.

"Correct."

"Hmm. I think I'll call you Lucy." His wistful expression dimmed as he felt the ship change course. Glancing through the porthole, John saw the most extraordinary sight: _Jupiter._

"Yes, Chosen. A course has been set."

_They're running, he thought. But where to?_

"Unknown. A hypothesis."

"I'm all ears."

The screen flashed, revealing another picture of a very familiar face. "Approximately thirty-nine minutes, twenty seconds ago, this man was also abducted, and brought to this vessel. Doctor Rodney McKay –"

John snorted. "I am well aware who Rodney McKay is, Lucy." Marveling at the Gossamer Ring of Jupiter, John pressed his nose against the cool glass. Digging his hands into his pockets, he found a cell phone. One of three, to be exact, and this was his personal phone. "Sorry, Dad," he whispered.

Sighing, he looked toward the display. "So McKay is on this ship?"

"Yes, Chosen."

"What is all this Chosen nonsense anyway?"

The display flashed again, scrolling text on one side, illustrations on the other. "Many texts say that the Alterans would return to Lantea when the threat has passed. It is said that a Descended one would be an ambassador to the new generations, leading them back to the planet of origin." His mother's picture appeared again, dressed in a tunic similar to his aunt and uncle.

"And you think that's me."

"Correct, Chosen."

"Look, I'm not a Chosen. Just John." Reaching out to touch the wall, John felt his agitation lessen. _I should be royally freaking out right now,_ he thought. _Why am I not freaking out?_

"It is possible that your interface with this ship is comforting to you."

"Genetics?"

"Indeed, John."

Shifting, away from the wall, John sat on the bed. "Why now?"

"Chosen?"

"Why wait until now? What does this have to do with me and McKay?"

A long pause. "A revised hypothesis, John."

"Knock yourself out."

"By your tone, I sense you are using another hyperbole."

"Indeed, Lucy." Leaning back on the headboard, John closed his eyes.

"The current occupants of this vessel are quite determined to travel to Lantea. This set of circumstances has not occurred in nearly two millennia. Technology, timing, fortuitous happenstance. All of these key factors converged three days, ten hours ago."

"Me, Rodney McKay, and a ship bound for deep space." Frowning, John opened his eyes. "Can you send a communication to Earth?"

"It is possible, however, it will take 8.625 days to reach its destination."

"All right, Lucy. Take a memo."

When he was much younger, John took an interest in telegraphy. He was obsessed to the point of finally building his own, subsequently driving his older brother crazy. Inventing his own system of clicks, John taught David, who finally understood the insanity of creating your own alphabet.

Reciting a series of clicks, he hoped David would be somewhere near to translate. "Can you send that as a feedback loop?"

"Yes, John. There is a relay post located on the planet known as Mars, and also an outpost on the continent of Antarctica. The message will take as many as 12 days to reach its destination. Will this be acceptable?"

"It'll have to do." Sighing, John glanced out the porthole window again. "Who else knows about you?"

"No one, John. At present, you are the only one with a gene powerful enough to use the interface."

"I like those odds."

_"Wait!"_ A very familiar voice echoed through the corridor. _"You can't just steal a person!"_

John smiled. _Maybe I'll be home sooner rather than later,_ he thought.

oOoOoOo

_"Gallia! Calm down. I have everyone I know working to find him!"_ Patrick Sheppard's voice resonated through his closed office door.

"Who's in there?"

"I dunno. I've been here all morning." Monica fretfully straightened her desk. "There's no one on the phone, and no one has entered the office except Mister Sheppard."

_"Patrick. I cannot feel him anymore! It's as if he's –"_

_"He's not dead, dammit!"_

Monica dropped the papers she held. Patrick Sheppard had never raised his voice like that to anyone!

Three days ago, the youngest Sheppard was taken. No ransom, no one claiming responsibility. No leads either, according to the police. Even though the building was being repaired, there was still a gaping hole. John Sheppard's disappearance was taking its toll on his father.

"Hey, Monica. Are you okay?" the other asked, noticing her glum expression. He bent to gather the scattered invoices.

"Yeah, Roger," she replied, collecting the sheets of paper. "I'll be fine."

oOoOoOoOo

"How can he be gone and yet still alive?"

Patrick sat down heavily next to the woman in white and beige. "There is an organization with the technology and means to –"

"Do not try to distract me, Patrick!" Gallia sighed, trying to calm herself. "I have heard that these humans have stolen countless artifacts and weapons from various planets in this galaxy. Evidently, they have found a way to hide Kieran from us."

"True, but there's also some good guys looking for him, too." Rubbing a hand over his face and through his hair, Patrick leaned forward. "Where's Kay?"

"She cannot come; it is doubtful the others would let her go anyway." Slouching back against the cushions, the Alteran gave an undignified cry of frustration. "We should have known this would happen someday. We should have foreseen –"

"Seen what? Done what? Hide him away from world? Never let him be born? Let Cillian take John away to some faraway planet only to have the Ori after him?" Standing, Patrick began to pace the length of his office. "This should've been the one time those Ascended creeps lifted their non-interference crap."

"As one of those creeps, I agree. We all would like our progeny to see and learn from Atlantis; the time is right. But it must happen naturally."

Stopping short, Sheppard glared at his friend. "At the cost of my son's life?"

Sighing again, Gallia gazed out the window. "It is my hope it will not come to that."

oOoOoOo

"And you thought it was a great idea to steal the smartest man in this galaxy to make him do your homework?"

Doctor Rodney McKay was just getting started.

Well aware of the tantrum the mercurial physicist was about to lodge, Liam Grant motioned a medical doctor forward. "I assure you, Rodney, we know exactly whom we've taken. We're giving you the opportunity of a lifetime, finding the mythical Atlantis."

"Atlantis? You mean the supposed most intelligent civilization who built their city in the middle of the ocean only to have it sink? What do you need a spaceship for? Atlantis is on Earth, morons." McKay was swiftly losing his composure as he glimpsed Saturn.

"You know as well as I, that the real Atlantis resides in another galaxy." Smiling, Grant circled the other man. "In fact, I happen to know that you've been working closely with the SGC in finding the address."

Lips thinned, McKay's mouth became a straight line. "That project was tabled years ago, and you know that, too, I'm sure."

Tsking, Grant folded his arms across his chest. "I have it on good authority that in your spare time, you wrote an algorithm that gave you the top ten likely addresses for Atlantis. You also have been developing a way to recharge the last remaining ZPM."

Mirroring the crossed arms, McKay let a smirk grace his lips. "That's not front page news, Liam. I've been working on that since we found the damn thing. Even tried my hand at creating a similar device, but Sheppard Industries got the patent first."

Grant's smirk became a wolfish grin. "I bet you're dying to know how they got there first."

"I know why they're first… Doctor John Sheppard." Uncrossing his arms, McKay allowed them to fall to his sides. "Now… What. Do. You. Want."

Grant's wolf-like grin became a touch maniacal as he broadly gestured around him. "We have a means to get to Pegasus, now we just need a destination."

"Oh. Is that all? Look, even if I bought into your crazy, searching for a needle in a stack of needles isn't exactly the way I want to spend my days!" Turning to the nearest panel, the physicist pressed a series of buttons, bringing up a display. "Hybrid tech. I'm assuming Ancient and Asgard. Now," he murmured to himself. "Where are the 'gateships?" A beep sounded. "Ah."

Following at a leisurely pace, Grant shoved his hands into his pockets. "You won't be able to fly them. We've tied. However, the fact that you so easily accessed that information reminds me how vital you are for this mission."

Rodney halted his steps. "Mission? This is not a simple step-through-the-'gate meet and greet. I–"

"Enough," Grant said quietly. Two soldiers appeared on either side of the captured man. "I thought you of all people would share my vision of a new exploratory opportunity, Doctor McKay." Turning to the soldiers, Grant frowned. "Please show our guest to his room. Then I'd like to meet with our other guest."

"You can't do this, Grant! If the IOA doesn't fry you, the SGC will destroy you!" Rodney yelled, resisting all the way. "You can't just steal a person!"

They stopped in front of one of the many doors on this level. It slid open revealing sparsely furnished quarters; Rodney was used to the military cots and thin blankets. "Fantastic," he muttered, entering the room.

One of the soldiers waved a hand over an illuminated plate on the opposite door. "Sheppard. Let's go."

Spinning around, McKay caught a glimpse of familiar spiky dark hair, and an amused smile. "Hello, Rodney."

oOoOoOo

TBC

Ugh. However, now we can get this party started...


	5. Ascnamh a Chothú

Yeah… RL blah blah. It's been super crazy. Hopefully, the next chapter won't take as long. I don't really like this chapter, but here it is.

Chapter 5

Ascnamh a Chothú – to foster progress

_Patrick got a call from Llewellyn Mulvaney today. What kind of name is that? Apparently, David and John got the better of his boys again, playing whatever games boys play in a vast forest. I suspect Cillian was involved; it was the same tactic he used a millennia ago against the Rahrani. Perhaps it is time I had a wee talk with my brother. John Keiran is too young to be the next Dagda._

_My dear husband has told Mister Mulvaney he cannot call 'no fair' on children's war games. I don't think he has stopped laughing since he ended the call._

_**From the journals of Kaylin Sheppard, neé Caoilfhionn, O'Braion Clan. Contributed by Dr. John K. Sheppard; translated by Dr. Daniel Jackson**_

Gallia stared out of the office window at the damaged building. She felt as if it were her own child missing. Turning, she glared daggers at the textured walls just to the right of Patrick's head. Having dealt with his wife's similar glare, Patrick merely smiled fondly.

"The others are calling me back. If I stay any longer –"

"I know," Patrick sighed. "Be careful. I don't need Cillian's temper either, if The Others forbid you from finding John."

Her eyes saddened at the thought as she nodded. The sun burst from the clouds and she was gone.

In the same moment, a knock sounded at the door. "Yeah? Come in." Leaning against his desk, Patrick waited for the next intrusion.

"Sorry to bother you, sir –" Monica glanced around the office, finding no one save her boss. "Uh, Roger from IT said the server will be online in about fifteen. And Detective Bates is here to see you."

Sighing again, Patrick walked around his desk, dropping wearily into his chair. "Show him in, I guess." Another day, the same questions, he thought.

The detective entered before the PA had the chance to inform him, suspicious eyes roaming the office. "Mister Sheppard, I just have a few questions."

Glancing at his distressed assistant, Patrick smiled. "Thanks, Monica." Leaning forward, his smile vanished. "What can I do for you, Detective? I'm pretty sure I answered every question asked yesterday."

Bates frowned, pulling out a battered notebook. "Sorry to hear about your son, Mister Sheppard. We tried to get here sooner, however, due to your involvement with the military –"

"Yeah, they're a bunch of hard asses." Patrick motioned Bates toward a chair. "There's not much I can tell you. Even the organization that took John is considered top secret."

"So I've heard. I understand your son and a Doctor Rodney McKay have a long-standing rivalry. Do you think he was involved?"

Snorting, Sheppard leaned forward. "Are you kidding? Those two would be the best of friends if they had the time. Besides, McKay wouldn't hurt anyone just to prove a point. He certainly wouldn't resort to kidnapping a professional rival."

"He also has pull with every government agency on three continents. You don't think that rivalry could put him over the edge?"

"Look, Detective," Sheppard sighed, folding his arms on the desk surface. "John and Rodney are at the top of their fields. Any headhunter, CEO, or conglomerate in the world will – and has – asked their advice at one time or another. Even hired them for a project or two. They thrive on on that competition, and God help them, it's a game to them."

"A game?" Suspicion rose again in Bates' eyes.

Sighing again, Patrick rose, shoved his hands into his pockets. "A game. The longest-running chess match. Every project they take is a move on their imaginary chessboard."

"Could your son have staged this?"

Halting in his tracks, Sheppard glared at the other man. "I think we're done. You should leave."

"Answer the question, Mister Sheppard."

"He's answered enough of your questions, Detective Bates," a smooth voice answered from behind. David Sheppard stood, mirroring his father, smirk firmly in place. "Anything else will be handled by Mister Matheson here, who will also show you the exit."

Tapping his pen against his notepad, Bates stood. With one last glance around the office, he smiled cruelly. "Have it your way, Mister Sheppard. I'll be back soon enough."

As the detective left, the tension lifted in the spacious office.

"I don't know how much longer I can deal with this, Davey."

Wincing at his nickname, David moved around the desk to stand beside his father. All his life, no matter what happened, John could always make his father smile. David also knew that his father had a different smile for everyone. But for David and John, there was a special smile that reached Patrick's eyes.

Slinging an arm around his father, David smiled. "Remember the war games we used to play? John and Cillian spent way too much time together. The Mulvaney boys never knew what hit them."

Patrick chuckled, but faltered. "I didn't hear the end of it for weeks. Both your mother and Mrs. Mulvaney nagged at me in tandem."

"John can be quite resourceful when he's motivated; you know that." Fully embracing the other man, David gave a tight hug. "He'll come back to us."

Stepping out of the embrace, Patrick glanced at his older son. "I need him back in one piece, Davey."

oOoOoOo

Three days later, Samantha Carter leaned back in her chair, rubbing her eyes against the blur of the screen. Two hours ago, a phantom energy signature appeared just beyond Saturn. It was gone before they could track it; Carter had to come up with a plan.

Looping it back, she found a suspiciously rhythmic piece of feedback. Through the static, she distinctly heard an old form of telegraphy interspersed with static, and strange popping sounds. Ordinarily, Carter would have dismissed the sounds; deep-space objects, comets, and even planets make lots of noise. But this...

"Hey, Danny?"

Pulling his nose out of a notebook, Daniel rubbed his eyes. "Yeah?"

"Come listen to this." Replaying the strange noise, Carter raised the volume. "I picked up this transmission somewhere around Saturn."

Listening carefully, the linguist closed his eyes. "Can you filter it any better?"

"That's as clean as I can get it."

Shaking his head, Daniel opened his eyes. "I've never heard this type of code, if it is a code. But it does remind me of something."

Crossing her arms, Sam frowned. "Do you think it's Ancient?"

"Honestly, I don't know." Grabbing a crumpled sheet of paper, Daniel mirrored her frown. "It sounds vaguely familiar, but I can't put my finger on it." He began scribbling on the paper, as other linguists and scientists started to gather.

"Sounds a bit rhythmic, like a dance."

"There's a long string of consonants, like Russian or –"

Jackson snapped his fingers, light sparking in his eyes. Searching the desks for more paper, he began to write letters. "I don't know what the other code is, but this," he said quickly, pointing to the paper. "This definitely spells 'D-W-Y-D-D'."

"Welsh?"

Carter glanced from one linguist to another. "I'm not following, Daniel. What does–"

Smiling wolfishly, Daniel grabbed a set of headphones. "It means we might have a cipher. This word," he pointed at his scribbled notes, "is an ancient Welsh spelling for David."

"Well, if you add an 'e'."

Daniel refrained from rolling his eyes. "Thank you, Doctor Schaefer. Yes, adding an 'e' would spell Dewydd."

Nodding, Sam glanced at the rest of the code. "Will that serve as a cipher? It still sounds like gibberish to me."

With a gasp and a snicker from the others, Daniel waved his hands. "Thank you, ladies and gentlemen, I think I'll handle it from here." As the others shuffled out of the room, Daniel smiled at the new challenge. "This Sheppard guy is pretty smart; hiding a message in an obsolete language is clever. I don't think anyone will figure it out right away."

"Either of them could create that code. John Sheppard is Rodney McKay's intellectual rival, if that tells you anything. While they're not exactly on the same level, I'm pretty sure something like this would be child's play." Carter glanced back at her quiet friend. "Are you even listening?"

"What if the cipher is a person?" Daniel began without preamble. "This Dewydd. It's gotta be David Sheppard, right?"

The major sprinted toward the exit. "I'm on it. Thanks, Daniel!"

oOoOoOo

Just as Major Carter appeared at Hammond's door, the Red Phone rang. Glancing down at it, Hammond ignored the ringing in favor of information. "Major?"

"Sir, I think we may have picked up an encoded transmission. I need to talk to David Sheppard."

Hammond reached for the phone. "Mister President... Sorry for the delay. Yes, sir. We may have something, however, Major Carter needs to speak with the Sheppard family. No, I don't think it'll require any paperwork." The general allowed a soft smile to crease his face. "Yes, sir. I do realize how important Sheppard Industries is to the – Yes, sir."

Placing the receiver back in its cradle, Hammond's glare softened. "What've you got?"

Stepping fully into the room, Sam forced herself to relax. "Sir, we've been scanning for every sort of transmission on every frequency to see if we can pick up anything. This morning, an odd one appeared, but it had degraded. We cleaned it up, and it seems to have originated somewhere around Mars."

The general watched his best and brightest uselessly wave her hands in gesture. He could tell she needed a point of reference. "Show me."

As they walked toward Ops, O'Neill joined them. "Did I miss my invitation to the party?"

Carter smiled. "No, sir. We have some intel, and I'd like to show you where it came from."

"Well that's cryptic. General? You follow?"

"That's what we're about to find out."

With a sigh, Carter found herself in a familiar place. Stepping up to the solar system map, she tapped Jupiter. "This morning, SETI received an odd transmission originating somewhere near Mars. It's possible it came from Jupiter; we're still working on that." Resetting the plotting device, Sam traced a path with a dry erase marker. "The message had degraded, so my guess is that it was sent about 4 to 6 days ago, buried under a lot of noise. It got bounced around a few sensor arrays dotted throughout the astroid belt."

"So you're thinking one of those eggheads sent a message." O'Neill stated, frowning at the planet Jupiter.

"We think it's from John Sheppard." Turning quickly, the major hit a few keys on a laptop. "This is what we've been trying to decipher."

After listening to static and clicks, Hammond moved his glare from the computer back to the major. "And what did your analysis yield?"

"We only deciphered one word; the rest is either heavily damaged, or -"

"That's why you want to speak with David Sheppard," Hammond frowned.

The colonel snapped to attention. "You think a civilian can figure this out better than you?"

Carter blinked in surprise. "Normally, no. But his name was the only word we translated."

"Their clearance is high, but not that high," Jack grimaced.

"Do it," Hammond said sharply. "I'll arrange the meeting, but you'll need to go there."

"Sir, I -"

Hammond shook his head. "I'm trusting you with this information. Colonel, you'll be accompanying the major on this effort."

"Ya betcha. Coach or First Class?"

Smirking, Hammond spared a glance at the man at Ops. "Sergeant, please contact Thor. If he's near Earth, hopefully the two of you can catch a ride." Nodding once, the general moved toward the exit. "I'll leave you to it."

Turning to his 2IC, O'Neill folded his arms across his chest. "Looks like we're going on a field trip. What else do I need to know about this situation?"

"Not much to tell, sir. If David Sheppard really is the cipher, we'll know a lot more."

"Colonel O'Neill. Thor wishes to -"

With a flash of light, Jack was gone.

Throwing her hands up in frustration, Sam left Stargate Ops to collect a clean laptop before she got snatched too.

OooOoOo

David Sheppard stood at the window in his father's office, gazing out at the destruction of the R &amp; D wing. Currently, it was being covered in plastic until the various alphabet organizations finished investigating.

Five days.

His little brother had been missing, and there was nothing he could do about it. For most of his life, David vowed to protect John. There was something about the quiet, scrawny, scrappy kid who defied expectations. Smiling wryly, David turned to his father, who had taken to sleeping on the office couch.

A figure knelt next to Patrick, stroking his hair as he slept. A very familiar figure.

"Mom!" David gasped.

Caoilfhonn glowed like an apparition in the dimming sunlight. Glancing up at David, she smiled her sad smile, the one that reminded him of John.

"This is the first time he's slept more than an hour," David said, chin indicating the man on the couch.

She continued to stroke Patrick's hair, then adjusted the blanket over his shoulders. Standing, the Alteran faced her adopted son. It had been years since she had last seen him. Tall, with the same regal bearing as his birth mother, but Patrick's kind and laughing eyes. Holding out her hands, she invited David to come closer.

David allowed himself to be pulled into her arms. For all intents and purposes, this woman was dead. He never understood the whys and wherefores of Ascension, but David liked the fact his mother would make an appearance every few years. After he'd gone off to college, he did wonder how often she came to see his little brother.

"I'm sorry," Kay whispered. "This must happen." She felt his sadness, however, the non-interference stance of The Others was adamant. Feeling a slight tug mentally, Kay knew it was time to go. "News is coming." With a confident smile, the Alteran stepped back, and was gone in a blink of the eye.

Turning back toward the window, David clenched his jaw. "Next time, stay at least until he wakes up," he murmured.

"Can't beat a good catnap, though," a voice said quietly.

Spinning back around, David saw two people standing near the door of the office. "Who are you? How did you –"

The other man raised a hand to stall the inevitable questions. "Colonel Jack O'Neill. She's Major Sam Carter. We have some news."

"Did you find him?" David fumbled for the large desk chair. Taking a deep breath, he still wasn't sure he was ready for what they were about to say.

Carter came forward, circumventing the couch. With a fond glance at Patrick, she made her way toward the desk. "We picked up some noise from one of our deep-space sensors. There's a possibility you might be able to decipher this."

With rounded eyes, David quickly glanced at his sleeping father, then back to the major. "Me? I'm not a cryptographer; that's something John would... I'm sorry. I don't know how I can help. Maybe my dad –" Huffing, David shook his head. "What do you have?"

Reaching over the keyboard, Carter tapped a few buttons. "My team and I were only able to decrypt a single word, but we know there is more information included in the background. It's unlike anything we've ever heard."

The dissonant noise faded away as David listened to a section of code. Suddenly, he was filled all at once with nostalgia and dread; John's meticulous planning, creating a fictitious alphabet to correspond with the real one, and sounds.

"Oh, John," David said breathlessly.

"Jack?" another voice asked, raspy with sleep. "What are you doing here?"

The colonel and major looked up from the laptop, O'Neill smiling at the older man. "Patrick, good to see you." Stepping around the desk, Jack offered his hand. "Sorry it's not under better circumstances."

Nodding, Patrick rose to a sitting position with a stretch. Taking a deep breath, he shook the colonel's hand. "Any news?"

"Possibly. I'll let Major Carter fill you in."

"Hello, Mr. Sheppard. I'm Samantha Carter. We received what we believe to be an encoded message. The only word we could decipher was David's name."

Shaking his head, Patrick stood, removing his crumpled tie. Shoving a hand through his hair, the older man walked toward his desk. "So you think John sent this."

"Well, sir –"

"I've got something," David said, excitement edging his voice. "It's definitely from John." Scribbling a few words down, David gave it to the colonel.

O'Neill read it quickly before handing it over to the major. "We will do everything we can to get him back, Patrick. I promise. And we will find who's behind this."

Frowning, the older Sheppard pointed at the slip of paper. "What does it say?"

Carter threw a concerned look in the colonel's direction; he replied with a nod. "'I am okay. Looking at Jupiter. Always wanted to see the stars. Be home soon. Fidicinus and Mer say hi.'"

"Who's Fidi- Fidi- whatever? Abductor? Abductee?" O'Neill asked.

"Sorry, sir. He didn't specify. Might be a clue, though." Carter's eyes widened. "But Mer might be –"

"He's with Rodney McKay?" David asked, standing abruptly. "I can't believe this."

Patrick sat down heavily. "A detective came here asking if this was a hoax, dreamed up by either John or Rodney. But this is much more serious, isn't it?"

Suddenly, the colonel tapped his earpiece. "O'Neill." Moving to the corner of the office, he listened to the other end.

"If those two are together, you can bet something will happen soon," Patrick commented, bemused.

"I think you may be right, sir." Closing the laptop, Carter stepped in the direction of her boss, who turned around, snapping his fingers. "We'll keep in touch."

"Understood, sir. Carter, we're outta here." Turning to the Sheppards, the colonel gave a hurried salute. "We'll talk soon, Sheppard."

In a flash of light, they were gone.

oOoOoOo

"Hello, Rodney? That's all you've got to say to me? Are you behind this stunt? Because, Sheppard, if you are –"

"Whoa, McKay! Geneva, yes. But this... never in a million years!" Raising his hands to placate the astrophysicist, John stepped closer. "Listen –"

"Step back, Sheppard. We're leaving." Thing One mumbled, grabbing the other man's arm.

Glaring at his guards, John took a deep breath. "We'll talk later."

Sputtering, Rodney moved forward as Thing Two shoved him back. "What the hell do you think you're doing? I want answers!"

"You'll just have to wait." The soldier pushed the scientist into the room, palming the door plate.

Kicking the metal door, Rodney pretended his pride hurt more than his foot. Pacing the length of the small room, he tried to bring his heart rate down. "Keep it together, McKay. Find a way. Find a way." Halting mid-step, he threw his hands in the air. "Great. Talk to yourself, and prove your craziness."

Glancing at the wall, he moved deft hands across the smooth surface. "Control panel... panel... panel... Ah!"

He pried the cover away from the wall, then stared in awe of the intricate crystal patterns and the hodge-podge of clumsily attached wires. "What... This is a tragedy." Quickly, Rodney deduced the Ancient tech was adapted by someone wielding a hammer and duct tape. "Neanderthals." Stepping back, the scientist mentally kicked himself for not trying the gene therapy.

Sitting on the bed, Rodney calmed, trying to wrap his head around his situation. What did John Sheppard, an obviously pilfered Ancient ship, Atlantis, and himself all have in common?

Everything.

And he was in trouble. "Suddenly, I miss Siberia."

oOoOoOo

TBC… Now, it's time to get this story started.


	6. Bualadh Chun Comhrá le Duine

A/N: I know I know I know. Here's the thing. Moved, lost notebooks, RL, stupid stupid RL, conventions... Lost. the. Whole. Damned. Story.

Aaannnnndd we're back...

oOoOoOo

Chapter 6

Bualadh Chun Comhrá le Duine – to strike up a conversation (with someone)

John Sheppard shuffled as quickly as he could down the ship's corridor, moving just fast enough to avoid the inevitable shove. The guard seemed to enjoy the wince of pain the prisoner gave with every hit to the shoulder. Poked and prodded, bruised and drained, John wished for a quiet place, painkillers, and a warm bed.

His captors were obsessed with his genetic make up, and asked a thousand questions about his ancestry. Of course, John's only answer was silence; the so-called doctors seemed to already know a great deal about his family; the one thing he wished his mother had explained before she'd Ascended.

Straining his foggy brain, John tried to recall the many stories Kay told about the Alterans and Atlantis. As he entered his room, a story came to mind. Leaning against the wall, John felt the ship turn its attention toward him. _That is so weird_, he thought. "Lucy?"

_"__Yes, Chosen?"_

"Tell me about your technology. Why can some use it, while others can't? Does it have to do with the Wraith?"

_"__Affirmative. The genetic marker needed to operate the technology was developed to aid in the fight against the Wraith."_

"So, because my mother was Alteran, they think I can find Atlantis for them." Maybe he was just too tired, or maybe everything started to finally make sense. This is too much. "They want me to go to another galaxy, in hopes of, what? Finding a city that may or may not exist, and then what?"

_"__Hypothesis, Chosen."_

Waving a weary hand, John sat heavily on the bed. "Go right ahead."

_"__Atlantis was once a formidable vessel, with hyperspace capability, far superior than my own. Firepower –"_

"Wait." John's fatigue fled quickly as he straightened. "It can fly?"

_"__Yes, Chosen. Atlantis is a cityship. Nearly five thousand inhabitants dwelled within her walls at one time."_

"Amazing." Taking a deep breath, John lay back on the bed. "They want to bring it here. Back to this galaxy."

_"__That is my hypothesis. Your file states that you are an exceptional pilot. With your capabilities, you could fly Atlantis easily. The Ori could be defeated by the superior firepower, however, the Ori are also in search of Atlantis."_

Frowning, John turned that information over in his mind. He had heard some military scuttlebutt about a race of aliens known as the Ori. Combining that intel with the stories his mother told, John knew they were something of a legend. "Why does everyone want to rule this galaxy?"

_"__Simply put: Population."_ Lucy replied; John hadn't expected an actual answer. _"This galaxy is free of the Wraith. Therefore, it is populous. Ruling over lesser beings has always been the philosophy of the Ori, and the Goa'uld."_

"I hate those guys."

_"__Many would agree with you, Chosen."_ A HUD popped up above John's head._ "Your heart rate and temperature are elevated, and your blood glucose is low. I shall notify the caretaker –"_

"Please don't Lucy. I could use a break from those vampires," the prone man sighed. _Now we're back to Chosen. Must be a glitch in the matrix_, he mused.

_"__Apologies, John. I will prepare a full analysis and report for you to read in the morning."_

"Thanks, Lucy."

oOoOoOo

"Fidicinus?" Daniel Jackson asked, brows disappearing behind shaggy hair. That means 'lute' in Latin."

Carter nodded, pacing the room. "That message. I think there's more to it."

"Hmm." Glancing back at the carefully written note, the linguist had an idea. "You know, the Ancients like to name their ships with Latin terms. Maybe it's a ship?"

Tilting her head in acquiescence, Sam pulled up the database. "If it is a ship, there's none by that name."

"Do you think it's the name of an Ancient?"

"Checking," she said, frowning at the small screen.

An airman entered the lab, tentative smile on her face. "Doctor Jackson? This came for you from General Hammond; it's marked urgent."

"Thanks, Angelica." Taking the small package with a dazzling smile, Jackson ignored the look from his friend. "Don't look at me like that, Sam. I am a student of social and cultural interaction."

"Is that what they call it these days?"

Chuckling, Daniel read the name on the package, then immediately ripped it open. "Incredible."

Sam leaned over his shoulder, glancing between the leather-bound book and her teammate. "All right, I'll bite. What is it?"

With a predatory smile, Daniel opened the book. Articulate script adorned the pages along with Ancient symbols and lettering in the margins. "Hammond just sent over diaries belonging to John Sheppard's mother."

"Really?" Briefly, Sam wondered how the general got them, but she suspected Patrick and George were long-time friends. "Why are we just now getting these?"

The man beside her shrugged. "Maybe your visit made an impression?"

"I guess so," Carter said, hands aching to hold the little notebook.

"This is interesting," Daniel said, moving toward his desk. Fishing out a magnifying glass, he flipped through pages. "More Ancient code."

"Hey, kids. What's up?" Jack O'Neill sauntered into the room, hands in pockets. "I see Christmas came early for our fellow archeologist."

The major started typing again, a new idea forming behind bright blue eyes. "We think the word Fidicinus is the name of an Ancient or perhaps a ship."

"A ship? Don't we have a database of Alteran ships?"

"Not there," Daniel said, pulling out a notebook. "It might be older than that list."

Sighing, the colonel leaned against a wall. "All we need is one lead. Just one." Pulling his hands out of his pockets, O'Neill folded his arms across his chest. "The fact of the matter is The Trust is two steps ahead of us, and will continue to be until we get a break."

"Agreed," Carter answered. "David Sheppard said he would try to decipher more if he could. Teal'c and the Jaffa will report back if they hear or see anything, not to mention the Asgard. Something will turn up."

"It better," Jack murmured. "We're running out of time."

oOoOoOo

After the third day of prodding and needles, John was fed up. Just as he was led to another part of the ship, the dark room lit up immediately. Sighing, John stepped fully into the room, a rush of emotion assaulted his senses. Taking a deep breath, he ignored the other scientists scribbling on clipboards.

John glanced around the room, taking in the dusty consoles lining the walls. This room felt different. "What is this place?"

"That's why you're here, Dr. Sheppard," someone replied.

"This is an auxiliary control room, John," Lucy whispered in his head.

_Now we're getting somewhere_, he thought. "What am I supposed to do?"

With an exasperated sigh, the shorter of the scientists, tapped impatiently on his clipboard. "You can start by activating each panel on-"

"Stop!"

Everyone turned to the annoyed man with the scowl. Rodney McKay marched into the room, sporting a fresh black eye and a busted lip.

"McKay? What-"

The physicist waved an irritated hand. "Never argue with a person who has a wider forehead than you. Now," McKay sighed. "What are you doing?"

Blinking, John jerked a thumb in the direction of the nearest console. "Well, apparently I'm supposed to fondle some hardware. Would you like to join me?"

"I always knew you were a tease, Sheppard." McKay's scowl deepened. "I'm glad you can find humor in this, because there's a distinct possibility neither of us is going home. So if you'll excuse my inability to laugh at your ridiculous innuendo-"

"I didn't think it was that ridiculous-"

"-And furthermore, why would you touch something foreign, let alone alien?"

McKay watched John smile; the man looked more like his cat when she was up to no good. "Come on, Rodney. You've known me for ten years. What do you think?"

Glancing over his shoulder, McKay glared at the other scientists and their clipboards. "We need room to work. Go observe something else." When they didn't move, the physicist marched toward them, causing the others to step back. Rodney smirked as they backed over the threshold. "Get out!"

Hitting the panel, McKay watched their surprised faces as the door slid shut.

Turning back to his companion, Rodney snapped his fingers. "You've got about two minutes before they override that door."

Without taking his eyes off McKay, John nodded with a sigh. "Lucy? Can you buy us some time?"

_"__Affirmative."_

Smiling at the other man's surprise, John grabbed an elbow, steering McKay toward a large console. "Okay. This ship is called _Fidicinus_. It was commissioned over ten thousand years ago and has been dormant for about five. Lucy, say hi."

_"__Greetings, Scientist." _A static-filled voice responded quietly.

"You can call him Rodney," John answered, tapping several buttons, ignoring the stunned look on Rodney's face. Waving a hand at a blank wall, a HUD winked into view, displaying working, and non-working systems. "I found out you need a certain gene to–"

"–To operate the ship. Yes, yes, yes. But-"

_"__You have approximately three minutes, Chosen. Correction. John."_

"Chosen? Wha–"

John clapped a hand over his shoulder. "Ask later. Lucy says there's a map of Astria Porta in her database. Not sure what that is, but by the look on your face, I assume you do."

"Well, yes, but–"

"Good. I've been interfacing with the ship, and found out they've not only bastardized the tech, but have grafted other tech. It's interfering with her functions." Pressing more buttons, John plowed forward. "I've re-routed a few things to your quarters so you can work with Lucy. Maybe you can find a way off this bucket of bolts."

Not amused, Lucy sent feedback through their connection.

"Sorry, Lucy." Waving a hand again, John brought up another HUD with blurry surveillance. The other scientists outside had broken the panel on the wall, an angry Liam Grant standing behind them.

Sighing, Rodney glanced over the assorted consoles. "Lucy? Show me the 'gate map."

_"__There is no map of gates. Please re-phrase–"_

Snapping his fingers again, Rodney regained his momentum. "Ring of the Ancestors, Astria Porta–"

The first HUD screen changed sluggishly, displaying a galaxy map dotted with blue.

"What's this?"

Glancing up at the footage, McKay shook his head. "I'll explain later. Lucy, send this data to my quarters also." Jabbing a finger at each lit console, Rodney turned to John. "Turn it all off. They can't know what you can do yet."

"Won't it get us home sooner?"

"It'll get us dead faster, Sheppard." McKay raised a hand to stop any more questions. "I will explain everything to you. Just trust me."

Nonplussed, John thought 'off', leaving them in a dim room. "I trust you."

Smiling his approval, McKay nodded. "Now we're getting somewhere." He moved toward the door, arms crossed. "Lucy, if this was recorded at all, can you erase it?"

_"__Those aspects of my technology have been in disrepair for centuries."_

"Good to know." Hitting the panel, McKay stepped away from the door. "I thought you had the top scientists on this ship, Grant."

Ignoring the protests of the other men, Grant moved between them, glaring at Rodney. "I assure you, Dr. McKay, they are the best. With you here, there's no stopping us."

Waving a dismissive hand, the scientist frowned. "Whatever. They couldn't even open a simple door!"

John breathed a sigh of relief; McKay was always good at deflection. However, the scientist's earlier statement only left more questions. John watched the exchange quietly, trying not to draw attention.

"And what am I supposed to do with him?" Rodney asked, jabbing a finger toward the other man.

"John Sheppard is the only person on planet Earth who is half Ancient. He," Grant smiled maniacally. "Is our skeleton key. Our way to Atlantis!"

McKay tapped his finger against his chin. "I see. And that means?"

Sheppard couldn't help smirking at how quickly Grant's grin fled from his lips.

"Dr. McKay—"

"No, no. I get it. Because Dr. Sheppard here has the gene, you think you'll be able to get to Atlantis? I'm just wondering, since I'm pretty sure you'll need destination coordinates, navigation, and oh yeah, a ship that can take you there!"

Grant stepped forward; he and McKay were nearly nose to nose. "You are here to make certain we find The City. In safety."

On cue, two more soldiers stepped around the exasperated scientists.

With the jut of his chin, McKay crossed his arms tightly. "Oh, because that worked so well last time."

John moved closer to his friend, watching the people crowding the door. "McKay, stop antagonizing the bad guys," he whispered.

Snorting, Grant stepped away, wandering the room. "This is one of three rooms like it on this ship." He waved a hand over a console, which languidly lit, then dimmed. Thankfully, he missed John wince from Lucy's feedback. "The other rooms are inaccessible; I want you to open them."

McKay's crooked mouth slanted further; it was the first time John had seen Dr. M. Rodney McKay, Phd., Phd. look nervous. "And ten-thousand year old dust is good for whom?"

"I don't think you've grasped the reality of your situation, Rodney," Grant said, smirk in place. "We leave for the Pegasus Galaxy in four days. With or without you."

A surprised chuckle escaped McKay's lips. "I don't think they make crutches big enough, because that is the only way you're going to get anywhere!"

"Unless you'd like to study Saturn's rings intimately," the other man said, stepping in McKay's space again. "You _will_ find a way to make it work. Now." Stalking through the door, Grant finally left the room.

"What is your problem, McKay?" John placed his hands on his hips, hoping for answers.

"I needed to know how serious he was about asking for his own death." Seeing his companion's brows disappear under flat hair, McKay shook his head. "There are some things about Pegasus that even he may not know about."

"Comforting, Rodney."

"Maybe I'll finally get that Nobel. Albeit posthumously." Turning toward the irate but silent scientists, Rodney rubbed his hands together with a sinister smile.

"McKay–"

"You!" The astrophysicist pointed a finger at a more demure minion, choosing to ignore any false hope John Sheppard may have offered. "Take me to the engine room, or whatever."

The man looked from his equally silent companions back to McKay. "I–"

Staring intently at the quiet scientist, McKay's eyes turned cold. "Look. Either we figure out how this ship works, or we twiddle our thumbs until we get ripped apart by the gravitational pull of Jupiter! Your choice."

John moved behind Rodney, trying to show solidarity – or at least feel more confident about this excursion.

Seeing the two men standing together, the other man set his jaw. "This way, sir."

oOoOoOo

_The Strategic Genetic Committee was disbanded finally. We tried very hard to make sure John never knew he was, for lack of a better term, half-alien. They've decided that the ideals started 15 years ago no longer align with today's thinking. Really? Ripping children from the arms of their parents is now a bad idea? I'm not long for this world, and I am glad that my Kieran will be safe. Someone finally unearthed an Astria Porta, giving this fledgling generation new hope. Will they find Lantea and learn from their ancestors?_

**_From the journals of Kaylin Sheppard, neé Caoilfhionn, O'Braion Clan. Contributed by Dr. John K. Sheppard; translated by Dr. Daniel Jackson_**

"If we get to P3X-474, we may be able to intercept them, right?" Daniel asked, leaning forward over his desk.

"P4M-399 would be even better," Sam replied, fingers dancing across the keyboard. "It's on the edge, right between the Milky Way and Pegasus galaxies."

Flipping between mission reports, Daniel adjusted his glasses again. "Does Rodney know about this planet?"

"Doubtful. He's been in Siberia for the last two years."

Wincing, the linguist retrieved the two mugs between their laptops, and refilled them with coffee. "I've been searching the database of known Alteran ships. Not finding the Fidicinus, yet." Daniel sipped at the dark liquid savoring the warmth and the jolt of caffeine. "At least not in the last eight thousand years."

"Well, that fits with your theory of it possibly being older," Carter sighed, accepting the other mug.

"In fact," the man said, pacing a bit. "I think it might be older than Atlantis."

"How do we find that out? All our information only goes back–" The major stopped as Daniel waved a journal, his face suspiciously eager. "You found something."

"Yep. Look here."

After reading a few paragraphs, the cobwebs cleared from Carter's brain. "Her parents were engineers?"

"Caoilfhonn wrote the names of some ships, but I can't help but think these journals are partly some sort of code." Tapping a page near the end of the journal, Daniel smiled. "The note in the margin is in Gaelic. It says the fourth fleet was named for musical instruments, ten thousand years or older."

The major let out a low whistle. "What else have you found?"

"Interestingly enough, her son John shouldn't have been born." Shaking his head, Daniel grabbed another journal. "She was a Descended Being; there's no way she should've been able to conceive, let alone do any of the things she was able to do."

"The others didn't interfere?"

"No, not at all. Which leads me to believe Kay Sheppard was viewed as more experiment than enlightened human."

"But?"

Smiling, Daniel swept a hand across the small pile of journals. "But she found friends and a family through a man who didn't ask too many questions." He sat down with a sigh, tapping one of the books. "I need more."

Sam had been intrigued by the journals when they arrived, and couldn't wait to read them. "Do you think we can get more?"

"Can't hurt to ask."

oOoOoOo

Rodney McKay studied the information John and Lucy had given him. Having full access to every database, every system, and every schematic was the most amazing thing. No blocked access, no classified areas, no ham-handed military blundering…

"This is incredible," he whispered. He badly wanted to brag to Carter about this; brag to anyone, really. For he had unlocked the secrets of this ship, and possibly found a way to get to Atlantis. "We need a control chair."

Suddenly, the HUD switched to a blueprint of the ship, and a surface map of the room. "I don't believe this. Lucy?"

_"__Yes, Scientist."_

"As much as I enjoy being called by a title, Rodney will suffice."

_"__Yes, Rodney."_

"Why hasn't anyone used the control chair?"

A faint buzz of static preceded the ship's answer; Rodney was beginning to think this was Lucy's way of sighing. _"I do not know. It is possible they do not know it exists, or no one has been able to operate it."_

"Hmm," Rodney replied, tapping a finger on his chin. "Is it online? Scratch that. Is it functional?"

_"__Its functionality is limited due to the amount of power required to operate the chair."_

"I see. Can John use the chair?"

_"__Yes. By my calculations, he is the only one who can use it efficiently."_

Setting aside his cooling MRE, Rodney tapped the HUD. "Efficiently? You mean if he uses it, there will be less of a power drain."

_"__Yes, Rodney."_

"Interesting."

oOoOoOo

John swallowed the reconstituted eggs with difficulty. He was reminded of the few times he had been stranded in the middle of the desert or a rainforest waiting for the weather to cooperate. _Still can't look at Chicken ala King,_ he thought with amusement.

Thoughts of the past moved from amusement to sadness. John never thought he'd miss his father so much. Even worse, the possibility of going to his mother's mythical city, made him wish for his mother's direction.

"You done?" Grunt Number Nine waved his gun toward the door.

Sighing, John snagged two Jell-O cups and a power bar. He was pretty sure Rodney wasn't able to eat this morning, if he was able to sleep at all. "Where to now?"

"Doesn't matter, does it?"

John felt Lucy following him down the corridor, buzzing along exposed wires. _:Rodney calls it Lab Three.:_

Smiling, John could hear the capital letters. "All right," he said aloud.

As they rounded the corner, John watched Grunt Four and Five shove Rodney into what he assumed was Lab Three.

"Oh very mature! Miscreants." McKay surveyed the large table in front of them; various pieces and knick-knacks and doohickeys stolen from across the universe a haphazard pile. "Where have you been? You look terrible."

"Thanks. So, what is all this stuff?"

"I'm assuming Ancient tech they want you to fondle, as you so bluntly put it. But honestly, I don't see how this will help us find Atlantis sooner." McKay moved slowly around the table, cataloging each piece. "Unless one of these devices is a hyperdrive with a compass, we shouldn't waste our time here."

Crossing his arms, John frowned. Rodney was onto something, and he wasn't sure he was going to like it. "Where should we be?"

Subtly inclining his head toward a blackened console, the astrophysicist waited until the other man stood next to him. "There is a control chair on this ship. It means that we can at least get a star map, or maybe coordinates –"

"Why—"

"Because I'm trying to buy some time. Stargate Command will likely try to send a team to a planet at the edge of the galaxy, and team up with the Jaffa."

"The Jaf—who?"

Shaking his head, McKay waved a hand. "Look. I studied a lot of the files you sent –"

"What is going on here?"

Rolling his eyes, McKay turned around. "We are _trying_ to work. Why can't you just twirl your mustache elsewhere? Some of us are trying to concentrate!"

John hid his smirk before turning around. "Yeah. Look, we're doing what you said, but we need to use some sort of caution—"

"Not helping, Sheppard," Rodney murmured. "The fact of the matter is, this can't be rushed. Bombs notwithstanding."

Glancing between the two men, Grant shook his head. Working with McKay was bad enough, but now he had a cohort. "Field trip. Let's go."

Quietly, the scientists followed Grant down a long corridor. "We now have two days before we depart for—"

"Two days?" both captives said in unison.

"What happened? Not as covert as you thought?" sneered McKay.

Ignoring the jab, Grant kept his leisurely pace. "I've been informed the SGC is calling in favors from every ally in the galaxy. Most likely we'll be met by Jaffa ships at the edge of the Milky Way, so the timetable has been adjusted."

"You know resetting the Doomsday Clock never worked for anyone," John said, shaking his head.

Static along the walls made John shiver. _:John, I believe they have discovered the control chair,: _Lucy informed him_. :I will divert power from non-essential systems."_

_:Let's wait until Rodney says it's okay. I don't want to activate anything that shouldn't.:_

_:Yes, John.:_

Leaning closer to the other man, Rodney quickly glanced around. "What did she say?"

"Nothing. Might be a chair," John muttered. "No power until you say so."

"Hmm. Good thinking."

John rolled his eyes at the tickle at the back of his brain; Lucy seemed amused. "What do I need to know?"

"Don't touch anything, and for God's sake, do not sit in the chair!" Rodney's panicked whispers rose above the noise of the ship.

"I don't think the bad guys should know that, McKay," John elbowed his friend in the ribs.

Grant stopped in front of a rusted, battle-scarred door. Touching the palmplate, he waited expectantly for the door to open; nothing happened. Frustrated, he pointed at the offending object. "Open this door!"

"Why?" the scientists asked together.

Grant folded his arms across his chest smugly. "I discovered something that will get us to Atlantis much sooner."

John sighed, stepping forward, tired of being pushed around. Waving his hand over the plate, he watched the door struggle to open. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Rodney flinch and cover his nose and mouth. Covering his smirk, John pushed a hand through his hair. "What's that?" he blurted, a little worried by the loss of color in his companion's face.

"That –"

"That is a control chair," Rodney said with a hint of reverence in his voice. "Except, instead of a piece of useful machinery, it's now just a pretty, glowy armchair."

"I disagree, Doctor McKay. We found it last night, however, until you helped us, we couldn't power it." Grant grinned wolfishly. "So thank you."

John winced, waiting for McKay to explode. Opening one eye, he glanced over at his companion. The scientist grinned an equally wolfish grin, showing more teeth. "Why put off the inevitable?"

Grant genuinely laughed; Rodney McKay entertained him to no end. "I'm not going to kill you–"

"Yet!"

Shaking his head, Liam sauntered into the room. "Come, Doctor Sheppard. Time for you to earn your keep."

"Me? I'm not touching that thing." John shuddered at the wrongness the chair projected.

"There should be enough power to get coordinates–"

"Wait!" McKay stepped in front of John, pointing at the chair. "How do you know powering this object won't shut down essential systems? It will take enormous amounts of power to use this chair. Do you have a generator in your pocket?"

"Enough." Grant signaled two soldiers; they easily lifted John into the chair.

_Off off off! _John screamed, mind overloaded with the constant, pervasive mental component of the Ancient tech. The bastardized systems fought for dominance, each eager to please the Chosen.

_:Power has been diverted for now, John. There are secondary systems that have bypassed my control that may try to re-divert–:_

_:I got it, Lucy.:_ John forced his mind to calm as an electric shock raced across his skin. Distantly, he heard McKay's frantic ranting at another scientist. Heavy footsteps came nearer, and John forced eyes open he didn't realize were closed. Beyond the bright lights, he saw a hand reaching out. "No! Don't touch me!"

"Okay, John. Okay." Rodney leaned in, all pale face and very blue eyes, forcing the other man to focus on him. "Relax. Think about where you are in the universe."

oOoOoOo

Kinda sucky... I know. Maybe I won't wait a WHOLE YEAR to post another chapter. Maybe next week.


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